


We won't pass this way again, so kiss me with your mouth open.

by DryDreams



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Coming Untouched, M/M, Oral Sex, S5 spoilers, Semi-Public Sex, Uhhhhh sexy mind fuckery, follow up to 165, if you count a desolate town as public ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24006064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryDreams/pseuds/DryDreams
Summary: Fall to his knees. Worship. Now that was something Martin could do.(Takes place directly after the end of MAG 165)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 52
Kudos: 468





	We won't pass this way again, so kiss me with your mouth open.

Martin lasted longer than he thought he would, all things considered. Not that time was measurable anymore, but he’d say it was solidly more than 30 minutes. They’d cleared The Stranger’s mess quickly and left it behind; the ringing sound of the music and the screams had faded a while back now. 

What _hadn’t_ faded was the hot, coiling tension in Martin’s gut and the tightness in his chest and the itch of his hands and his fingers and his tongue, every part of him that was _aching_ for Jon; to touch Jon to taste Jon, to drop to his knees and _worship Jon._

They’d just come into something that had once been a village. It wasn’t run down or anything, in fact it looked rather cozy, though Martin knew that wasn’t trustworthy. Still, he wasn’t in a state to be picky. He caught sight of a small doorway in the wall alongside the road that seemed to lead to a narrow, greenery-covered alleyway. “Jon?” He tugged on Jon’s hand to get his attention and slowed to a stop. 

When Jon turned and laid those pretty green eyes, widened slightly in question, on Martin, it felt as though a small bolt of lightning had hit the ground between them. At least, that’s how it felt to Martin, and he sucked in a deep breath, shifting where he stood. “Are we safe here?” He asked. And then, hurriedly, because he really couldn’t stand to wait any longer; “Would you check?”

Jon’s eyebrows furrowed in mild confusion, no doubt he was wondering why Martin wanted to stop so soon, but he didn’t question. Instead he shut his eyes, and Martin had to bite his lip hard as he watched the air around Jon shimmer like it was hot, watched a small, sourceless breeze ruffle his hair and watched the single golden eye blink open in the middle of his forehead. Just for a moment— barely a second— it watched him back, and then so quickly he would have missed it were he not actively looking, a thousand more flashed all around: on Jon, in the air, in the sky, in Martin’s mind. 

It was all over in the time it took him to breathe out and in again. When Jon opened his two normal lovely eyes again and smiled, Martin felt like he’d been sucker punched. “Yes, we’ll be safe here for a little while.” Jon said with a short nod. He stepped forward and reached out to Martin, concern on his face “Are you alright? Why do you—“ 

Martin cut him off, grabbing his outstretched hand and yanking him forward. Briefly he saw Jon’s eyes widen in surprise before he caught his jaw in his other hand and kissed him greedily. 

The surprised noise that escaped Jon’s throat turned into a small moan and he melted against Martin as he so often did, kissing back albeit with somewhat less fervor. _“You,”_ Martin breathed in between kisses. _“Have… no idea… what you do to me.”_

He pulled back then, only so he could herd Jon backwards towards the doorway without fear of tripping. Jon was gaping up at him, color high in his cheeks. “Pardon?” He demanded breathlessly. He didn’t take his eyes off Martin’s face even as he walked blindly backwards, and Martin really wasn’t sure if he could somehow see where he was going or if he just trusted Martin to lead him.

As Martin had expected, there was a nice little expanse of wall on the other side of the door; hedges to either side and a trellis covered in some sort of vine above them that gave the vague guise of enclosure. Deftly he unbuckled Jon’s bag and pushed it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground before spinning them around and pressing Jon firmly against the wall. _“Martin,”_ Jon gasped, his hands coming up to curl in the front of Martin’s sweater.

With a degree of self control, Martin just looked at Jon for a moment, vaguely realizing that he was breathing rather quickly. “What you did. Back there.” He slid a hand up Jon’s side and then up to his face, cupping his cheek. Jon tilted his head to lean into the touch even as he frowned. “Christ,” Martin muttered. 

He wasn’t even sure he had the words to describe what Jon had done. Glorious? Terrifying? _Intoxicating,_ now there was a good one. 

“You… just… _you.”_ There wasn’t enough blood in his brain to string sentences together so he gave up, instead leaning back to claim Jon’s mouth again. He felt absolutely wild with wanting; all that breathtaking power and it was here in his arms, it was softly gasping into his mouth and curling fingers in his hair. When Jon arched against him he felt like he might come apart, just be torn into pieces like that thing had been. Maybe that would be fine, to let Jon crush him, to fall to his knees under the weight of everything Jon commanded and be so seen that he ceased to be. 

Fall to his knees. Worship. Now that was something he could do. Martin dragged his mouth away from Jon’s, over his jaw and down his neck, pressing messy kisses everywhere he could reach. “Jon,” he breathed against the scar under his ear. “Let me?”

When he really did kneel, it wasn’t as dramatic as he’d thought it would be; he nearly tipped over as he slid down Jon’s body to clumsily land in the dirt. But it didn’t matter, because Jon’s lips parted on an exhale and he didn’t blink as he gazed down at Martin, reached out and gently skated his fingers over his temple and brushed a curl behind his ear. It didn’t matter because he was beautiful and he was everything and Martin had the privilege of being here at his feet and nothing mattered but that.

“Y-Yes, okay,” Jon said breathlessly. His eyes were wide, still, with surprise and darker now with want and Martin wanted those eyes to _consume him._

Hastily he tugged at the laces of Jon’s boot, and Jon obediently lifted his foot so Martin could tug it off. Then, his belt, the button on his trousers, pulled everything down at once; he didn't even bother with the second leg of Jon’s jeans, just left them on and hooked Jon’s knee over his shoulder. 

Jon’s breathing was quick to match his own now, and when Martin kissed the crease of his thigh the fingers in his hair curled and tugged. Martin paused when Jon tipped his head back with a whimper. 

“Please,” Martin begged, he couldn’t help it. “Don’t look away.”

Immediately Jon dropped his chin, and the weight of his heady gaze returning was like a slap. Martin’s breath caught in his throat. “Thank you,” he breathed and he meant it; he would do anything to never leave Jon’s sight again. 

Let it be said that Martin was never less than enthusiastic when the privilege of getting his mouth on Jon was presented to him. This time, though, there was a certain desperation— he _needed_ this, more than he needed to breathe. 

Jon was only just wet when Martin pressed his nose into the wiry curls, slid his fingers through and nudged him open. He whined and shifted as Martin lapped at his dick, bent his knee to pull Martin closer. That and taste of him made something inside Martin snap. With a low moan he dragged his hand up Jon’s thigh, grabbed his hip and hauled him even closer, finding the right angle so that he could lick deeper, press his tongue inside and make Jon cry out. 

The first time was always easy, with Jon. Martin knew how to send him quickly over the edge and he did, often, because the second was oh so much sweeter, and every one that followed after even more. And Martin didn’t plan on stopping until he was told to. 

When Jon’s back arched, Martin gentled his movements, not intending to torture this time. But he didn’t stop, and Jon predictably didn’t complain, just pressed closer when he was ready for more and Martin happily gave it. 

His jaw was aching pleasantly by the time Jon shuddered apart for a third time, whining and begging and grinding down on Martin’s tongue, grip painfully tight in his hair. Martin was in a haze, drunk on his lover's pleasure. He looked up at Jon through heavy lidded eyes, watching his face twist and his chest heave. Distantly he knew he was also hopelessly aroused, throbbing and wet, but it was secondary to how his whole world had narrowed to his tongue and his hands and to what he could do to make Jon moan for him. 

To his mild disappointment, though, Jon gently pushed him away after that. He went obediently, letting Jon put both feet on the ground and sitting back on his heels, still just watching Jon like he couldn’t possibly look away. 

“Martin,” Jon breathed, splaying his fingers out over Martin’s temple. His thighs were trembling and so were his hands, and Martin reached out to try and steady him. “What can I do for you?” Jon asked softly. “What do you want from me?”

“Please.” 

That was all Martin could say. He didn’t know what he was asking for. He wanted anything, everything. Jon’s eyebrows furrowed like he was thinking, and then he nodded. 

Martin had only had a split second to register what was happening as all of a sudden, all those millions of golden eyes flashed again, and then his eyes rolled back in his head as he _saw_ and _knew_ and _felt,_ tongue and fingers and praise and adoration and the rush of an edge, then another and another but _all at once_ , all spasming through him, rolling over him like a tidal wave and he was happy to drown, wasn’t sure he could breathe if he tried as he _shook_ and _felt_ and _came and came and came._

In a world where time is meaningless, the moment could have lasted hours. Likely not, certainly it hadn’t for Jon, but for Martin it felt like _years._ When he finally came down, managed to feel his limbs and open his eyes, he was flat on his back in the dirt. 

Jon was kneeling beside him, watching him with a mixture of awe and fascination— and just a touch of concern. 

“Hi.” Martin said dumbly. Jon gave him a tiny smile.

“Hello. Are you alright?”

Martin blinked. “I’m fine. I’m _great,_ I think?” He was fine. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck but he had rather wished for that, hadn’t he? “What… the fuck was that?”

“That’s… how you made me feel.” Jon said, biting his lip. “Significantly more concentrated, I imagine, possibly, um, all of how you’ve ever made me feel, ever, actually, um… I-I’m sorry.” 

Martin brought a hand to his head, casting a glance towards the sky and then mildly regretting it when the sky looked back through the vines. “Jesus. Right. Okay. Don’t be sorry.”

Jon still looked apologetic so with some effort Martin reached out and grabbed his sweater, pulling him down for a kiss. He sighed happily into Martin’s mouth and draped himself over his chest. 

“You.” Martin breathed when they broke apart. “Are _beautiful.”_

Jon flushed and glanced away, but Martin tugged his chin back up. “Jon. Look at me.”

Jon looked. His eyes had more gold in them than they used to. Soon they’d likely be more gold than green, and Martin was a little sad about that. But they were just as pretty as they’d always been. “Was that little escapade not proof enough? You drive me crazy, you and that voice and those eyes. You’re _magnificent.”_

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing, Martin.” Jon’s mouth quirked up at the edge, even as he furrowed his eyebrows to look stern.

“Are there any good things, anymore?” He was teasing, sort of. There was still at least one good thing. 

“Yes. Yes, I think you’ve very much proved that there are. I don’t know if I’d believe it if you weren’t here, but here you are.”

“Yeah. Here I am.” For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Jon’s thumb moved in little circles behind Martin’s ear. “Kiss me?” He asked, finally. 

Jon smiled and shook his head as he leaned in. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyy woke up, wrote this without entirely becoming conscious, then went back to sleep. Somehow I hope that energy translates also hope you liked it, I . Was. Horny! 
> 
> Oh also listen to Dilaudid by The Mountain Goats that’s where the title is from and it’s the mood


End file.
